A Rose By Any Other Name
by Emils
Summary: What happens when you mix titanic with Harry Potter? A lot of romance between Draco and Hermione, of course! Who could resist a sexy, artist Draco? Involves stupid Harry, overprotective Ron, goth Ginny, and a verrrry interesting game of truth or dare! R
1. Chapter 1

_Prologue_

_"You just don't get it, Ronald, do you?" Hermione, arms akimbo, was red-faced and screaming at Ron in the Gryffindor common room for what seemed to be the millionth time last year._

_"Don't get what? The part about you being a selfish prat who can't even pull her nose out of her books long enough to see her boyfriend?!" Ron was equally red-faced, although he was sitting in a chair, propping his head up with the last of his strength. He had known Hermione was a difficult girl before dating her. Served him right. _

_"Maybe you're right." She smiled sweetly and said, "Goodbye, Ronald Weasley." Hermione turned her back on him, and calmly walked out, ending a scene that the Gryffindors would remember for a long time._

* * *

Later that year, Harry Potter proved to be Hermione's most trusted friend. He refused to take a side, and thus divided his time in the library with her or the common room with Ron. Of course, it was always lonely for Hermione when Harry was gone. Madam Pince, while smart, could get annoying from time to time. Plus, students couldn't eat in the library, which only added to Hermione's irritation.

Hermione often found it difficult to talk to Harry, despite his companionship. After the final battle between their sixth and seventh year, during which Harry had finally defeated Voldemort, he became increasingly distant. Though his smile remained the same, his eyes had a deadened look behind them that no one could break. Hermione tried to offer what consolation she could, but the effort proved fruitless. Even when they began dating, Hermione only agreeing to it because she felt sorry for her forlorn friend, Harry always had a glassy look to him, never quite understanding Hermione the way he used to.

As for Hermione, she had few reasons to complain. Why should I stop dating an international celebrity, who happens to be my friend, she thought, even if I don't truly love him? Hermione _liked _Harry well enough; she just didn't love him. Besides, they knew each other so well, their relationship was like a favorite pair of shoes. That was fine with Harry too, it seemed. After all, love was not something Harry was familiar with.

* * *

Chapter 1

Harry and Hermione were sitting on the common room couch during lunch break, watching the roaring fire in the common room. Hermione was content to sit next to him, and feel the soft rise and fall of his chest. She looked up into his eyes, and was not surprised to find them vacant.

"Harry?" Hermione breathed lightly. "Harry, you have an owl."

"Oh. It's probably another paycheck. Go ahead and throw it in my bag."

"Mmmkay." Hermione ripped the letter open, found yet another paycheck for 100,000 galleons, and summoned it into Harry's bag. Harry began receiving compensation checks for killing Voldemort, as well as the loss of Sirius, shortly after the last battle. He received monthly payments so large that he could not possibly spend them all in one lifetime, choosing to deposit them in Gringott's or spend them lavishly on unnecessary luxuries. That suited the Gryffindors well; they loved throwing huge parties to celebrate any occasion.

Harry glanced over at the wall. Lately, Hermione had been investing his money in artwork and philanthropy, explaining the benefits of the arts to Harry as she happily purchased rare Miro's after the closure of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. The Wizard Bureau in the U.S. had been unable to supply the necessary funds for the war, and the arts were hit the hardest with the budget cuts, especially in major cities. The MOMA was no exception. The entire collection was liquidated and sold to private buyers, including Hermione Granger.

"Those mud puddles were certainly a waste of money."

Hermione looked at her favorite Miro, a red and black combination.

"You're wrong. They're fascinating. Like in a dream... there's truth without logic. What's his name again... ?"

"Miro," Harry replied flatly. "He'll never amount to a thing, trust me. At least they were cheap."

"Mmm." Hermione stared at the paintings, unsettled by the surrealism. Sometimes, she thought, they were too close to the truth. They left for Potions soon after.

* * *

"Good afternoon," Snape droned smoothly. "I hope you were smart enough to dress in layers, as the caustic burn treatment potion we will be brewing today brings with it a large temperature increase. Instructions," Snape waved his wand, "are on the board. Mind you roll your outer robes up or take them off; the potion requires a high fire as well as several acidic ingredients, and I have neither the time nor the patience to treat burns of any sort." Students scrambled to the cabinet, eager to get started.

Malfoy read through the steps on the board. Pathetically easy, he thought. Unlike many of his peers, Malfoy understood the subtle nuances of Potion brewing as only an observant and intelligent person could. Of course, it didn't hurt to be backed by Snape's favoritism, either. Malfoy decided to go to the cabinet and grab the ingredients, gleefully noting the weasel trying to figure out what to get.

"Sorry, weasel." Malfoy 'accidentally' knocked into Ron, causing Ron to spill quite a large amount of Dragon's venom. The red liquid sizzled on the floor. Not two seconds later…

"Mr. Malfoy, I insist that you refrain from being a bumbling idiot in my classroom. Dragon venom is very expensive and difficult to clean up. Ten points from Slytherin." Snape glared, daring Ron to say something. Unfortunately, Ron took the bait.

"Sir, Malfoy deliberately ran into me!" Ron's ears turned red. Arguing was not his strong point.

"Detention for mouthing off, Weasley," Snape smoothly interjected. Malfoy chuckled happily. The day was turning out quite nicely.

"You can join him, Mr. Malfoy, if you enjoy laughing with Mr. Weasley so much." Snape was not in a good mood. Malfoy knew better than to argue, so he rolled his eyes and walked back to his desk to begin his potion.

* * *

Later that night at dinner, Hermione and Harry sat down next to Ginny. Ginny had certainly changed over the course of the summer. She had gained weight, and began dressing in all black, the wizard equivalent of a muggle Goth. She wore heavy makeup and smoked behind the quidditch pitch, occasionally with Hermione, unbeknownst to their families. Her trademark Weasley hair was still red as ever, though. Today she was wearing her favorite hideous black plaid pants, complete with holes in the knees.

Sitting across from them was Parvati Patil. She had grown very pretty, and was dating Dean Thomas. She was a good friend of Hermione's, yet failed to be of any real importance when it came to serious matters. Still, Hermione found her trifling prattle comforting.

Hermione took out a cigarette at the table while they were waiting for their food. She lit it up as Parvati rolled her eyes and Ginny looked around indifferently. Parvati glared "you know I don't like that, Hermione. Besides, it's against school rules!" Parvatie glanced around quickly, lest Hermione be seen smoking. She glared at several first years, who were watching them intently.

"She knows." Harry said in a low voice. He deftly took the cigarette from her fingers and stubbed it out with a significant look at Hermione. Food appeared on the table, ending the awkward silence.

Harry tipped a lambchop onto Hermione's plate when she was looking absently around, chin in hand.

"You do like lamb, don't you, sweatpea?" Harry tried to make amends. Hermione glared. No one noticed.

"So, you gonna cut her meat for her too there, Harry?" Ginny was clearly amused. She was rather perceptive, which was one reason that Harry didn't like her to eat with them often. He disliked her tendency to state the obvious truths.

"Harry, I just talked to McGonagall about the new quidditch booths. She said they were fantastic-administration loved them!" Dean was once again discussing the latest developments on his plans to rebuild the quidditch spectator booths.

Hermione butted in. "Do you know of Dr. Freud? His ideas about the male preoccupation with _size_ might be of particular interest to you, Dean."

Parvati looked aghast. "My God, Hermione, what's gotten into—"

"Excuse me." Hermione shoved her plate away and stalked away.

"She's a pistol, Harry. You sure you can handle her?" Ginny was shaking with suppressed mirth. She loved how Hermione was finally getting a backbone.

"Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on." Harry feigned unconcern, but the tension was evident in his shoulders as he, too, left the table.

* * *

Draco's eyes were cold and icy, yet stormy beneath the surface, blind to the pain of others, yet keenly perceptive. It was unsurprising that Draco harbored a talent for artwork-work that far surpassed the pathetic drawings of the Society for the Enrichments of the Arts at Hogwarts. He sat in his favorite chair in the corner of the common room, working by the natural light of the window. Luckily, Crabbe and Goyle were still stuffing their greedy faces, so he had plenty of time.

Draco smiled to himself as he flipped through his sketchbook. It was, in a way, a scrapbook of his past summer. After his father's imprisonment and his mother's institutionalization, Draco became legally emancipated from his parents. He had savored his delicious freedom all summer long, taking a much-needed break and leaving Malfoy Manor for a change of scenery. Draco had dutifully sketched some of his favorite places and people in his book over the course of his journey.

Rome, June 22. Self-portrait at the top of the Tower of Pisa. The fine lines of Draco's face were shadowed as they observed Rome with the unsentimentality of an outsider, yet soft as he realized the beauty of the ancient city. It was one of Draco's favorites; the only time he was allowed to show his true feelings was when he drew. This portrait did exactly that.

Whales, July 13. Three Clovers Pub. A cluttered pub with rickety chairs. In the corner, a lovely and buxom hostess smiled as she held up mugs of butterbeer. It was here that Draco had first tasted fireballs, won 300 galleons playing a muggle game called poker, and honed his dart skills. He had a dart board under his bed with the faces of the 'golden trio' magicked on it. He derived pleasure from hitting the weasel right between the eyes. He also liked to hit Potter's scar. And he got the most pleasure of all from hitting loudmouth Granger between her two front teeth.

Paris, July 20. Che Longe Douxpas. A roomful of beautiful and naked French girls, lounging on couches. Draco, although still a teenage boy, had an artist's eye. Meaning, he appreciated the beauty of the human body, especially a woman's body. Often taunted as a womanizer and play boy, Draco felt misunderstood. His makeout sessions in Paris only served to, er, broaden his knowledge of the female form. His artwork certainly proved that correct. One had to admit, however, that the women were perfectly proportioned, no matter what their body type. Draco was honest in his work, yet at the same time beautifying.

And on it went. An hour later, Draco realized that his drawing of his pet hawk, Aranith, was going nowhere fast. A half completed sketch of his beautiful hawk stared at him with blank eyes. Draco sighed, wadded it up and shoved it in his pocket. He glanced at the clock and heaved another long sigh. He was late for detention with McGonagall and the weasel, because Malfoy was 'baiting' him in class.

With that, Draco scowled and hurried out of the room, but not before grabbing his sketchbook, just in case.

* * *

Hermione was seething with anger. She ran into her dormitory and collapsed onto her bed, sobbing and dry heaving. She wanted to throw up, explode, and sleep at the same time. She gulped and sat up, looking at a mirror. Her eye makeup was smudged, her face blotchy. See how you like me now, Harry Potter, she thought. She hated being the center of attention based on association. She was tired of the Hogwarts grapevine analyzing her every move. And most of all, she was sick of Harry's emotional instability. So what if he killed Voldemort, she thought? I am not his emotional dumping ground, babysitter, and mother rolled into one!

Hermione suddenly bounded over to her dresser, and looked down. Lipstick, hairbrushes, clips, and glitter littered the counter.

"What is all this shit?!" Hermione screamed and shoved it all off, throwing a particularly offensive pink lipgloss at the mirror with all her strength, hating their representation of who she had been forced to become. She looked murderously at her bed, glaring at the frilly pink pillows. Hermione kicked open her trunk and noticed a miniskirt lying on top of some shoes. She threw the skirt under her foot and ground her heel into it with pleasure. Next, she took a pair of chunky black heels out, looked at them, then decisively threw them out the window. They were uncomfortable anyways. Now she could buy some nice loafers. Unfortunately, just after Hermione threw the shoes, Parvati walked in the room.

"Hermione! Stop that!" She rushed over and grabbed Hermione's arms, shoving her to her bed. "I know you're upset about the way things are going with Harry, Hermione, but really! Why don't you resolve your problems for once instead of internalizing everything and acting like a rebellious prat?" Parvati stood, arms akimbo, demanding an answer.

"I don't know, I just don't know." Hermione was hiccupping and rubbing her puffy eyes.

"Go talk to him right now. He's in the common room. I'm sick of this drama." Parvati pointed a finger, but her look softened. "Look, I'm sorry Hermione. I just want what's best for you." Hermione looked at Parvati reproachfully.

"You go ahead. I'll clean this up." Parvati waved her wand and repaired the window. She rubbed her friend's shoulders and whispered into her ear. Hermione was grateful for her companionship as she left the room.

Hermione saw Harry sitting on a couch, head in hands, staring into the fire.

"Harry?" She sensed he was in one of his moods.

"Yes." His speech was clipped and irritated. Not a good sign.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you at dinner or anything…"Hermione trailed off.

"Come here," Harry murmured. He pulled her down next to him and looked earnestly at his girlfriend.

"I just don't know who you've become anymore, Hermione. I'm dealing with so many issues of my own. I can't seem to figure it all out." Hermione said nothing. Harry continued.

"As for dinner, you really embarrassed me. You have to realize that we have to watch what we do and say. The Slytherins, the first-years, the wizards, hell the entire world is watching the boy-who-lived and the girl-who-puts-up-with-him!" Harry nearly shouted. "I can't censor you all the time because you don't have the bloody decency to do it yourself." Hermione saw a muscle in his jaw twitch.

"I'm not changing who I am to fit your needs, Harry! If you want a perfect girlfriend, there are plenty who'll have you. But I'm not throwing away us because of your fame, and you shouldn't either."

"Well I don't even know who you are anymore Hermione!" Harry looked away, seething.

"Then that makes two of us," Hermione snarled, wriggling out of Harry's grasp and running out of the common room.

"Hermione, wait. Don't do that…Aghhh." Harry watched her leave. He decided to write to Remus. Things were getting out of hand.

* * *

Draco arrived at Snape's door, knocked lightly, and pushed it open to find Snape talking to someone in the fire.

"Professor?" Draco inquired politely. He had no knowledge of what kind of mood Snape would be in; it would be best to play it safe. Sometimes Snape acted like the fickle French women Draco met; often charming, yet sometimes downright nasty.

Snape spun around in her chair, looking frazzled. Not charming tonight.

"I'm afraid I'll have to cancel detention tonight, Mr. Malfoy. I'm in a rather pressing situation at the moment." Snape ran his fingers through his greasy hair, clearly under pressure. Draco had never seen him look this disheveled, and it intimidated him.

"Thanks Professor." Draco slipped out and closed the door, blowing out a long breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. Thank Merlin he didn't have to scour cauldrons with the weasel. Draco decided to take a stroll to the astronomy tower. He'd been meaning to sketch the view for some time.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Hermione ran blindly. She had to escape, and there was only one way to do that. She thought of how Harry would react. She thought of her teachers, and her parents. And she thought of the astronomy tower, with the Hogwarts Lake sitting placidly right beneath it. No one would even find her body.

Hermione reached the top, panting, even though it was a cold night. She leaned over the edge of the parapet. It certainly was a long fall. She felt slightly dizzy as she realized just how far she would fall into the murky water. Slowly, she placed a hand on the stone. Then the other. She slipped her shoes off and placed her perfectly manicured toes on the rough stone. Her arms started to shake as she leaned her head over to look again. She gulped, unable to swallow, as she slowly stepped over the edge and placed her feet on the stone on the outside of the structure.

"Don't do it, Granger." Draco Malfoy stepped out from the shadows.

* * *

Harry was seething. Everyone in the common room had seen their exchange. He paced back and forth, waiting for Ron. Well that'll give them a good bit of news, he thought savagely. Harry was relieved to finally see his best friend enter the room.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ron always knew when Harry was upset.

"Herminoe," Harry gritted through his teeth. "She's being such a prat."

"Oh. I know the feeling mate," Ron looked at his friend with sympathy. Privately, he thought Hermione and he were a better match than the current one, but he would never say that to Harry. He did, however, attempt to mention the fact that Harry was unwise to carry on a relationship while trying to deal with his own life.

"Yunno, Harry, I know you're upset about a lot right now. Is it worth getting upset about Hermione too?"

"Look Ron. I know you think I'm disturbed and all that, but really. You saw what happened at dinner. You can't honestly tell me that people aren't watching me all the time and judging me!" Harry kicked a chair, seething with anger.

"Merlin Harry! Just take it down, okay?" Ron hated it when Harry was in one of his moods. It was usually due to Hermione, and it was usually Ron's job to snap him back out of it. "I think you're the only one being a prat! And if you don't cut it out, you're going to lose her like I did." That wouldn't be too bad actually, Ron thought.

"Well what would YOU do in my situation? You seem to know _so_ much about keeping Hermione as a girlfriend, right?" Harry glared at Ron, instantly feeling regret when he saw the hurt look on Ron's face.

"Look Ron, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Harry held out his hand. Ron looked at it for a second, then shook it.

"'S'okay mate. Why don't you get her something nice to show her you care? Girls like that sort of thing, yunno, jewelry and whatnot. Besides, you've certainly got enough galleons." Ron grinned.

"Thanks Ron. I'll get you a nice gold necklace while I'm at it to match your golden heart." Harry grinned as Ron punched him.

"I have to go, mate. I blew off detention with Snape and Malfoy, and he's probably seething." Ron smiled as Harry laughed.

"Don't blame you, Ron."

"Later." Ron left a considerably happier Harry. But when he got to Snape's room, the door was locked and, peering through the window, Ron saw that the room was dark. He decided to run up to the Astronomy Tower to see if Hagrid was in his hut; it was easier to look for smoke in Hagrid's chimney than traipsing all the way across the lawn in such cold weather.

* * *

"Stay back! Don't come any closer Malfoy!" Hermione glared at Malfoy. Why did he have to show up?

Draco rolled his eyes, and stuck out his hand.

"Take my hand, mudblood. I'll pull you back in. We can't have Hogwarts second smartest student jumping off the Astronomy Tower, now can we?" Malfoy smirked, and managed to look almost sexy, for an asshole.

"No! Stay where you are. I mean it. I'll let go." Hermione swallowed.

"No you won't," Malfoy stated with his trademark cocky arrogance, smirk still in place.

"What do you mean no I won't? Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me, Malfoy." Hermione glared at the intruder.

Malfoy sighed with the air of one who was bored with every situation, even those involving life or death. "You would have done it already," he stated matter-of-factly. "Now come on, take my hand."

"You're distracting me. Go away." Hermione was on no account going to let Malfoy become a hero.

"You see, Granger, that's the problem. I can't go away, I'm involved now. If you jump, I have to either explain why you fell from the top of the Astronomy Tower of your own accord while I was standing two feet away from you, or I have to jump after you. And frankly, I'd rather not do either." Malfoy shoved his other hand in his pocket while he waited for the full effect of his speech to hit her.

"Don't be absurd, you idiot. You'd be killed." Hermione's face was streaked with tears. Malfoy wondered what was going on with her. He simply could not reveal that he cared, however.

"I'm a good swimmer." Malfoy smirked, outright lying. He hated the water.

"The fall alone would kill you." Hermione was not in the mood to argue with Malfoy at a time like this.

"It would hurt. I'm not saying it wouldn't. To be honest I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold." Malfoy had a point. The temperature was around 33 degrees, colder on top of the tower with the wind chill. He watched Hermione look down. He saw a muscle in her throat twitch as the reality of what she was doing sunk in.

"How cold?" Hermione spoke softly.

"Freezing. Maybe a couple degrees over." Malfoy sounded authoritative. "Ever been to the Fjords of Norway?"

Hermione looked genuinely perplexed. "No."

"Well they have some of the coldest winters around, and I went there over holiday last year. I was ice-fishing, you know, where you chip a hole in the—"

"I know what ice-fishing is, you prat!" Hermione snarled, sick of his condescending attitude.

"Sorry, Granger. Just... you look like kind of an indoor girl. Anyway, I went through some thin ice and I'm tellin' ya, water _that_ cold... like that right down there... it hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breath, you can't think... least not about anything but the pain." Draco kicked off his shoes, dropped his cloak to the ground, and placed his sketchbook neatly on top of the pile, shivering slightly. "Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said, I don't see a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here."

"You're crazy, Malfoy." Hermione whispered loudly, not sure whom she was speaking to anymore.

"That's what everybody says. But with all due respect, Granger, _I'm _not the one hanging off the Astronomy Tower." Malfoy looked pointedly at Hermione. "Come on. You don't want to do this. Give me your hand."

Hermione stared hard at Malfoy. Suddenly she realized just how stupid and absurd she was being, and said "alright." She reached out towards the pale, long-fingered hand extended towards her and grasped it firmly. Just after she grabbed Malfoy's hand, however, Hermione was overtaken by the force of gravity, and plunged toward the ground, letting out a piercing shriek. Malfoy, while gripping her hand, was jerked toward the edge. Hermione managed to grab a rough outcropping with her free hand.

"Help! Help!" Hermione screamed for her life.

"I've got you, Granger. I won't let go." Malfoy stared into her big brown eyes and realized that he had the power to save her life. The gravity of the situation hit him, bringing on a large adrenaline rush as he heaved Hermione up with all his might. Suddenly, she was yanked back over, Malfoy falling on top of her in a tangled heap. Just then, Ron Weasley stepped onto the pavilion, his eyes widening as they took in the situation before his eyes.

"What's all this?!" Ron yelled.

* * *

As Harry stormed back from the owlery, he hoped the letter he had written to Remus hadn't been too absurdly hormonal and exaggerated. He frowned as he remembered that Remus was still dealing with Sirius's death, the aftermath of the war, organization of the order, and eliminating Voldemort's followers, and that he probably would not want to be burdened with the misgivings of a 17-year-old teenage boy. In any case, the letter read:

_Hi Remus-_

_Thought I'd drop you a note to see how you're doing. I hope things are working out okay for the Order-your last letter was delivered by an owl I've never seen before, so I hope you're not doing anything too dangerous._

_School is going fine, although I am a bit worried about my personal life at the moment. Hermione and I had a rather large row in front of most of the Gryffindors. She's been acting so strange lately, and yesterday she went completely mental on me when I told her she had to start censoring what she said in the presence of others. Ron suggested buying her a nice trinket of some sort to make up for it, but I have no idea where to go for that sort of thing. Perhaps you do?_

_Keep yourself safe, and don't work too hard._

_Love, Harry_

By now it was almost ten o'clock, but Harry did not feel remotely tired. He suddenly remembered that he had to finish his astronomy homework, and went back to his dormitory to retrieve it. Harry checked to see if Ron had his for copying, but was sufficiently irritated when he could not find Ron or Ron's star chart. Harry sighed; there was no way he could feasibly hax the basic constellation of Orion. He would now have to go to the astronomy tower, step over the snogging couples, and copy every last blasted star.

* * *

Snape was displeased. Once again, Professor Trelawnley had managed to thwart his latest plans for detention hell. He was especially irked because he had conveniently scheduled Malfoy and Weasley for the same night. And to top it all off, there were about 10 extra large cauldrons that needed to be scoured by two people at the same time due to the complexity involved in wielding 200 pounds of cast-iron, for which Snape now had to recruit four first years to get sufficient manpower.

"Stupid woman…Crystal ball leaks…that's the second time this week," Snape muttered to himself. It was a well-known inside joke among the Hogwarts staff that Professor Trelawnley harbored a not-so-secret soft spot for Snape. She always managed to be having some sort of magical substance or liquid problem that always merited a cry for help from Snape. Last time, upon investigating the leaking crystal balls, (which would have been a very dangerous situation, had it been real) Snape discovered that the only thing leaking in Trelawnley's room was a bottle of firewhiskey.

Snape climbed the silver ladder leading to Trelawnley's room rather clumsily and emerged to find himself completely shrouded in fog.

"Cassandra?" Snape scanned the room for the source of the problem, and found it—Trelawnley was standing on a small table, waving a large orange scarf at the fog, which only served to aggravate the problem.

"For Merlin's sake Cassandra stop waving the damn scarf!" Bellowed Snape. He pulled himself to a standing position and ran over to Trelawnley, grabbing the scarf from her.

"Movement in the open air only increases the quantity of noxious gases you bat. Now get down this instant and we'll clean it up more effectively."

Unfortunately, just as Snape said that, Professor Trelawnley fainted from the gas, conveniently falling onto Snape. Strong in mind as he was, Snape lacked the physical stamina to catch a fully grown woman with 10 pounds of added weight in jewelry, and fell to the floor as his head took the brunt of the fall. Snape pushed Trelawnley off him and massaged his greasy scalp as he tried to clear the stars from his eyes. He began to say the incantations for divination fog clearing, praying that Trelawnley would not wake up. When Snape was finished, he tapped his wand to Trelawnley's head to wake her up.

"Wha…Oh Severus. I knew you'd come to the rescue. Those crystal balls can be so hard to manage sometimes, but I'm sure you know just how to do it." Trelawnley batted her bat-like eyes at Snape in an effort to attract him, but ended up looking like a praying mantis in the middle of a mating dance.

"Indeed." Snape tried to appear as flat as possible, which only served to intensify Trelawnley's pining.

"I can predict your future, Severus, if you're not terribly busy. Perhaps there is love just waiting around the corner for you." Trelawnley moved a little closer to Snape and, much as everyone loved to hate him, he deserved pity, for at that moment he had the misfortune to smell Trelawnley's perfume.

"I'm terribly sorry, Cassandra, but I must continue my," Snape paused, his brain searching frantically for an escape, "patrol of the Astronomy tower. I promised Dumbledore I'd investigate some, er, suspicious sightings in the forbidden forest." Snape breathed a sigh of relief. Another brilliant performance.

"Well allow me to accompany you. I could use some fresh air," Trelawnley said in a low voice.

"No, by all means don't trouble yourself. Besides, you should probably see if you can predict any, ah, astray happenings. You do have seer blood, after all," Snape prayed silently.

"If you insist." Trelawnley huffed and stalked away behind a curtain. The corners of Snape's mouth turned upward slightly. Feeling obliged to do what he said he would, Snape started for the Astronomy Tower. Just before he arrived, however, he heard a male scream "what's all this?" Snape quickened his pace, robes billowing out behind him. This merited an investigation.

* * *

Harry arrived at the top of the Astronomy Tower and was not prepared for the scene he encountered. His eyes followed the tip of Ron's wand straight into the wide eyes of Draco Malfoy, who was disentangling himself from Hermione.

"Stand back, Malfoy. Don't move your sorry arse one bit or you'll catch hell." Ron launched himself at Malfoy, but was intercepted by Harry's grabbing the back of his shirt. "Ron, NO! Go get help, now! Find a teacher or something." Harry pushed Ron away with one hand and bound Malfoy's hands together with his other. Ron agreed and ran to the door, ripping it open. Just as Ron opened the door, however, Professor Snape, who did not look as if it was a red-letter day, greeted him with the usual.

"Well, well well. What have we here? Explain yourselves." Snape crossed his arms. Harry shoved Malfoy with considerable strength up against the wall and screamed in his face.

"What made you think you could put your hands on my girlfriend, Malfoy?! Look at me, you filth! What did you think you were doing?!" Malfoy looked very pale, on account of his head being hit against the wall so forcefully.

"Harry, stop! It was an accident." Hermione slowly approached Harry.

"An accident?" Harry was dumbfounded.

"It was... stupid really. I was leaning over and I slipped," Hermione said, her voice gaining in volume. She chanced a glance at Malfoy, who showed no sign of calling her falsehood. Seeing that, Hermione continued.

"I was leaning _way_ over, to see the... ah... giant squid. And I slipped and I would have gone over the wall... and Malfoy here saved me and he almost went over himself," Hermione finished triumphantly.

"You wanted to see the giant squid?" Harry repeated stupidly.

"Women and curiosity do not mix," Ron mumbled.

"Was that the way of it, then?" Snape looked ready to hex the first person to disagree with him.

"Uh yes, sir. That was pretty much it," Draco complied weakly. He glanced at Hermione and could have sworn he saw her grin.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy is a hero then! Good for you, Draco, well done. Ten points to Slytherin." Snape was flushed with pride. Another opportunity to proclaim Slytherin's greatness. "Now get yourselves back to your dormitories. Now!" Snape crossed his arms and watched the group to make sure they left.

"So all's well and back to our butterbeer, then?" Ron pleaded. Harry ignored him as he rubbed Hermione's arms.

"Let's get you in. You're freezing," Harry said.

"I think you're forgetting a little something for me, Potter," Malfoy drawled, in full form.

"Eat shit, wanker." Harry threw a galleon at Malfoy.

"Is that the going rate for saving the girl you love?" Hermione looked earnestly at Harry.

"Hermione is displeased. Mmmm…what to do?" Harry looked at Malfoy. He would not let the students get a hold of this story. "I know," Harry smiled. "Perhaps you could join us for a game of Wizard's Truth or Dare tomorrow, to regale our group with your, er, _heroic, _tale."

Malfoy looked at Hermione and nonchalantly said "sure, count me in, scarface."

"Good. Settled then." Harry put his arm around Hermione and walked her to the door. He leaned close to Ron as they walked out and said, "this should be amusing," almost inaudibly.

"I heard that, Mr. Potter," Snape said dangerously to Harry. "If I find that anything is amiss, I will personally see to it that you fulfill the duties of my personal assistant for the remainder of the year." Harry glared at Snape and banged the door shut behind him.

"You'll want to tie those, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said. Draco looked at his feet. "Interesting that the young lady slipped so mighty all of a sudden and you still had time to take off your jacket and shoes. Mmmm?" Snape looked appraisingly at Draco. Draco grabbed his sketchbook and ran.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

The next day was a Saturday and it was a Hogsmeade weekend. Spirits were high as everyone in the Gryffindor common room chattered excitedly about his or her plans. Harry came down the stairs and found Ron already waiting for him.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"Let's go," Ron said.

"Wait." Harry pulled out a small tube of what appeared to be makeup.

"What's that for?" Ron tilted his head as he stared at the foreign object in Harry's hand.

"I stole Hermione's concealer so that no one will see my scar, you prat. Now shut up and show me how this works." Harry dubiously unscrewed the cap.

"Uh, lemme see. I think I saw Ginny use this once…" Ron took the tube, pulled Harry's bangs back, and squeezed. Because Ron was a male, he was not endowed with the fine sensory perception that females are born with that enable them to squeeze out exact portions of makeup. Thus, Ron ended up squirting out a blob the size of a galleon onto Harry's forehead. "Er, right then, just rub it in," Ron asserted. Harry reached his fingers up to his forehead and rubbed. Concealer dripped into his left eye.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!" Harry screamed as several Gryffindors looked on in alarm.

"What the hell is going on over there?" Seamus said.

"Harry spilled some, uh, acne potion in his eye," Ron said, his ears turning pink. Harry was furiously rubbing his eye. "Hold still, mate," Ron said as he pointed his wand at Harry. "Aquatifis!" Water shot out of Ron's wand and hit Harry all over Harry's face.

"STOP IT YOU PRAT!!!" Harry's head and shoulders were soaking wet. His left eye was red and puffy.

"Well it helped, didn't it?" Ron said, trying not to laugh. "Go put on a different sweatshirt.

"Fine," Harry stalked off to his dorm.

Five minutes later, the two friends were walking quickly and quietly into Hogsmeade, taking a back route to avoid seeing any students they knew. Harry knew that if he were caught sneaking out of Hogsmeade, then there would be dire consequences. Ron sighed and glanced toward the sky.

"Looks like it's going to rain. Good thing, too. Less chance of people noticing us."

"Mmmhmm." Harry was unusually quiet. They rounded the corner into an alleyway that led to an even less populated road. Harry shoved Ron behind a dumpster and followed his friend. "Okay, on three we're going to run to the street corner, stick out our wands with our right hands, and the knight bus should arrive. And move your arse fast, because people might see us." Harry looked around, his eyes darting from side to side, searching for students. He found none.

"Okay." Harry whispered. "One…Two…THREE!" Harry and Ron stuck out their wands with their right hands and sprinted to the street corner. Two seconds later, a violently purple bus appeared, honking noisily. It creaked to a stop, the door flew open, and out stepped Stan Shunpike.

" 'Ello, my name is Stan Shun—" Stan was cut off as Harry pushed him aside and dove into the bus. Ron yelled "GO!" to the conductor and grabbed Stan's arm, yanking him back inside the bus. Suddenly, they were rolling along an unfamiliar country road.

"Hey! Wot was that all about?" Stan stood up, gingerly rubbing the back of his head.

Harry panted, "Sorry, mate, but we're in a hurry and we didn't want to be seen."

"Wot's yer names anyhow?" Stan crossed his arms, squinting at Harry and Ron, clearly not in the mood to be hospitable.

Ron started to say "Ron—" but Harry cut him off.

"I'm Alex and this is, er, Tom. Here's our fare. Diagon Alley, please." Harry pressed 2 galleons into Stan's hand to avoid further questioning. He had seen it in a muggle movie once. Harry prayed silently as he watched the cogs turn in Stan's head. It clicked.

"Right then. Can I get you two anything to drink?" Stan took the bait. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"No thanks, but we're in somewhat of a hurry. When's the soonest you can have us there?" Harry was worried; if he didn't make it back to Hogwarts by curfew, then Snape would surely have something to say about it. Additionally, the fact that he and Ron were sneaking out of Hogsmeade was a source of worry. It was highly illegal and could result in expulsion.

Stan glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes. Lucky for you, we're having a slow day." With that, Stan left to go talk to Ernie, the driver.

Harry grinned at Ron and they both sat down. A few loud bangs, startled cows, jumping houses, close shaves, and twenty minutes later they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry and Ron tore out of the bus.

"Bye!" Ron called behind his shoulder. Stan waved cheerfully after them, and then the bus disappeared.

"Right, I don't want to be seen in the pub, so pull your hood up as we walk through." Harry and Ron were both wearing sweatshirts for anonymity.

"Okay. Let's go, then." Ron pulled his hood up after Harry and they entered the pub. The two boys stared at the floor as they weaved their way to the back of the pub. Once there, they stepped out into the alley, noted the drizzle that was now falling, and Harry rapidly tapped the bricks. The wall opened, and the two boys ran into Diagon Alley.

Harry looked around. "Where is this place, anyway? It's called Miagi Jewelers, but it's not on the map." Harry was looking at a visitor's guide that showed Diagon Alley as well as a few side streets.

"There." Ron pointed to a place in Saigon Alley, which started near Fortescue's Ice Cream.

"Great. It's not too far then. Let's go, I'm getting wet." Harry folded up the map and jogged down the street, Ron following him. They turned the corner at Fortescue's Ice Cream shop, and found themselves facing a set of heavy wooden doors, with a phone next to it. A peeling piece of paper was taped to it. It read: _Dial 3884 for operator and admittance._

Harry looked at Ron. Ron shrugged. Harry picked up the phone, dialed the numbers, and after one ring, the phone was picked up. A smooth male voice, presumably a recording, said, "Please state your name as well as your business in Saigon Alley after the tone. Remember that there are Veritas charms that will prevent you from gaining entrance if you lie in regards to your intentions, as well as armed guards near every shop should you choose to comport yourself in an illegal, dangerous, or otherwise disturbing manner. Thank you." The beep sounded. Harry nervously cleared his throat.

"Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Here to find a gift for my girlfriend."

The doors opened just wide enough to admit one person at a time. Harry and Ron walked through, single file. The doors slammed shut behind them. The boys stared in amazement at the street in front of them, which had turned into a myriad of stone pathways.

Harry and Ron felt as if they had just stepped into a Japanese Tea Garden. They looked up and noticed that they were shielded from the rain by a pagoda roof, of which many others dotted the winding stone pathways. Beneath these roofs were simple buildings with large windows, which were aesthetically pleasing, importing a sense of calm. Bamboo plants swayed gently as they graced the walkway, along with other exotic plants the boys had never seen before, or seen only in textbooks.

Harry suddenly noticed how hot he was—his sweatshirt felt stifling in the humidity. As he pulled his sweatshirt off, he realized how quiet it was. There was barely any noise, save for the babble of a far off brook as well as a few hushed whispers.

"This. Is. Amazing." Harry looked at his friend, who was staring open mouthed at a beautiful woman approaching them.

"Yea…" Ron said absently, as the woman grinned and nodded her head to him.

"Konichiwa. Welcome to Saigon Alley. I am Fen May." She said politely as she placed her hands in prayer position, and bowed to the visitors.

"Thanks," Harry said, still trying to absorb the scenery.

"Can I help you find any particular store?" Fen May was gorgeous. She was very petite and clothed in the finest red silk kimono, complete with tiny flowers that seemed to grow from her shiny black hair. Her round face had a radiant glow to it, and her almond shaped brown eyes were hypnotizing. A dab of red graced the center of her lower lip. Seeing as Ron was speechless, Harry answered.

"Miagi Jewelers?" Harry questioned.

"Ah. Yes, one of our finest. It is pagoda number four, the one with the dragon statue in front." Fen May pointed a delicate finger toward a nearby pagoda.

"Thank you. C'mon, you." Harry chuckled as he dragged Ron down the street.

"Wha? Oh." Ron was slightly disappointed that they didn't need any more help. The two boys continued walking the steamy pathways. It smelled of fresh rain and bamboo. Harry and Ron reached the shop, and a petite woman in a yellow kimono, much like Fen May, greeted them.

"Welcome to Miagi Jewelers. Here you will find some of the most dazzling and rare pieces on the market. We have something for everyone," the woman said quietly as she bowed.

"Thanks," Harry said, as he pushed open the driftwood door.

Miagi Jewelers was very artistically arranged; the store itself was like a haiku. It was simple, yet elegant. Calming, yet full of energy. The perfect balance of yin and yang. A few oriental tapestries of fierce samurai graced the walls. Natural light poured into the room, adding shine to the black lacquer display cases, which resembled sushi boxes. The boxes were flush with the walls, allowing the owner a certain level of intimacy with the customer, as they would both be on the same side of the counter. Instead of sushi, however, the most beautiful array of precious gemstones was arranged carefully in the simple red velvet lining of the boxes. Ron's eyes were as big as saucers as he looked at some of the jewels. One jewel was easily worth more than his entire house.

An old Japanese man stepped out from behind a curtain. He had a long, yet neatly trimmed beard. His face was very aged looking, yet he possessed a certain vivacity and quality of life.

"Konichiwa, Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley." The man bowed to each of them.

"How do you know who I am?" Harry said suspiciously.

"I know many things. Tell me what brings you to my humble establishment today," the man said mysteriously.

"Well, I'm looking for a gift for my girlfriend, Hermione. Something stunning; preferably a necklace," Harry said.

"I see. She is bookish, yet standoffish, is she not?" The man was accurate. Harry was unnerved.

"Y-yes," Harry stammered. "I want something to prove my… love for her."

"Ahhh," the man assumed a thoughtful expression as he put a finger to his lips. "I know just the thing. Follow me." The man walked along the left wall, perusing his collection.

"Your store is beautiful. Where do you find so many jewels?" Harry asked, running his finger along a ruby the size of an egg, his face lit with the red glow. When Harry tried to pull it off the velvet, he found that it was attached with some sort of super adhesive or spell, and he could not move it.

"Ah, ah, ah, do not touch," the man said as he pulled Harry's hand away with surprising strength. "They are very ancient and were found by wizards centuries ago. That is why what you call muggles find so few. But we are not here to discuss muggles. Let us take a look." The man bent down, squinting hard at an emerald.

"Come," He said. Harry and Ron followed him to the other side of the room.

"You see, Mr. Potter, much like wands, jewelry chooses the wizard. Each gem can sense one's intentions, and knows whether or not it is suited for the recipient. Hold your hand out, like this." The man put his hand into the box, almost as if the jewels were alive. The emerald gracefully soared into his hand. Harry and Ron gasped.

"Cool," Ron said in a hushed voice.

"Try this one." The man pointed to a pink diamond. Harry held out his hand. Almost reluctantly, the diamond flopped into his hand.

"No, no, that will not do. Can you sense its apprehension? It knows it is not the one." Harry placed the diamond back onto the velvet, bewildered. Harry looked up. Suddenly, his eyes came into contact with a winking blue sapphire. It seemed to mock him, as if to say "I hold all the secrets in the world and _you _can't have them!" Impudent little thing, Harry thought. He put his hand next to it. Suddenly, it jumped into his hand, and Harry could feel the warmth and weight of it. He gulped. "I think I've found the one," Harry said. The man smiled and nodded.

* * *

Hermione woke up on Saturday with a huge headache and wondered why. Then the previous night's activities came back to her in a rush. She groaned and rolled over, almost wishing she had jumped. The clock read 9:15 a.m. She was already late to the library to start her potions essay. What if someone else took "Potions of Fifteenth Century Goblins" off the shelf before she got there? Hermione laughed at herself as she realized just how absurd she was being. She knew that she really wanted to find Malfoy to talk to him. She had to at least thank him for saving her life; it was only polite, even if he was a Slytherin, she reasoned.

As Hermione toweled off her hair, she looked through her trunk for something to wear. Harry and Ron were in Hogsmeade for the day, and Hermione had an entire day to be by herself and get some peace and quiet, and hopefully fit a smoke in with Ginny. Hermione pulled out her favorite pair of jeans and ratty brown corduroy blazer. She smiled. It was good to be able to wear what she wanted without Harry around to show her off. Hermione grabbed her bag and headed for the library.

Hermione pushed open the heavy library doors and was happy to note that it was quiet, the usual chatter of students absent due to the Hogsmeade visit. She walked briskly to the back of the library because Hermione knew exactly what she was looking for. Hermione took a deep breath.

"Hello," Hermione said slowly. The blonde head whipped around, his icy eyes boring straight into her soul.

"Hello again." Draco stood with his hands in his pockets; the usual smirk absent from his face. Crabbe and Goyle stared stupidly from one to the other. Hermione looked at them and arched an eyebrow.

"Could I speak to you in private?" She pleaded silently with her eyes. Draco squinted quizzically.

"Uh, yes. Of course. After you," Draco said quietly, motioning her to a different section of the library. The two walked in silence, each with their own confused thoughts.

"Mr. Malfoy, I—" Hermione was cut off.

"Draco."

"Draco... I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you.

"Well, here you are, Granger," Draco stated matter-of-factly.

"Here I am. I... I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for... for pulling me back. But for your discretion," Hermione said in a rush.

"You're welcome. Hermione," Draco said, staring hard at her. Hermione squirmed as she turned to face him.

"Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little famous Potter's girlfriend. What does she know about misery?"

"That's not what I was thinking," Draco said, frowing. "What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this girl so much she though she had no way out." He looked at her, demanding an explanation.

"I don't... it wasn't just _one_ thing. It was _everything_. It was _them_, it was their whole world. And I was trapped in it, like an insect in amber," Hermione said, looking to the ceiling. "I just had to get away... just run and run and run... and then I was at the astronomy tower and there was nowhere to run... even Hogwarts wasn't big enough! Not enough to get away from _them_. And before I'd really though about it, I was over the wall. I was so furious. _I'll show them. They'll be sorry!_" Hermione suddenly stopped, realizing that she was spilling her heart to Malfoy.

"Obviously. You'd be dead," Malfoy said, looking at a bookshelf to his right. Malfoy's lack of meanness unnerved Hermione. She felt so stupid suddenly.

"Oh God, I am such an utter fool," Hermione hung her head.

"So…Potter's your boyfriend then?" Malfoy cast around for something to say, stating the obvious.

"Worse, I'm afraid," Hermione whispered, holding out her left hand. "It's a promise ring." On her ring finger was a platinum band with a pink square cut diamond set in the center. Malfoy's eyes widened.

"Merlin, look at that thing! You would have gone straight to the bottom and been squid food!" Malfoy chuckled at the absurdity of the whole thing. "So you feel like you're stuck on a train you can't get off because you're promised to Potter?" Draco stared into Hermione's eyes.

Hermione gulped. "Yes, exactly."

"So don't marry him," Malfoy stated.

"If only it were that simple." Hermione sighed and looked away.

"It _is_ that simple." Malfoy was too close to the truth, and it irked her.

"Oh, Draco... please don't judge me until you've seen my world." Hermione looked at her feet, her hand resting on the counter to steady herself.

"Well, I guess I will tonight at our, ah, rendezvous," Malfoy said, his voice lowering just enough to intrigue Hermione. Hermione snaps her head up, and, seeing his sketchbook, grabs it.

"What's this?" Hermione asked.

"Just some sketches." Malfoy shrugged.

"May I?" Hermione said as she opened the book and began looking through it. Hermione sat down at a nearby table, totally absorbed in the artistry before her; a woman's hands, an small pub, a picture of Draco in what appeared to be Italy, the same woman with the beautiful hands. The faces were luminous, almost alive, like a celebration of the human condition. Hermione let out a small gasp as she turned to the page of naked women.

"Well, well." Hermione was transfixed by the languid beauty Draco had created. His nudes were soulful, real, with expressive hands and eyes. They felt more like portraits than studies of the human form... almost uncomfortably intimate. Hermione blushed and tipped the book back so that only she could see. "And these were drawn from life?"

Draco grinned. "Yup. That's one of the great things about Paris. Lots of girls willing take their clothes off."

"You liked this woman. You used her several times," Hermione remarked astutely.

"She had beautiful hands." Draco shrugged.

"I think you must have had a love affair with her," Hermione said with more than a touch of mischief in her voice. Draco laughed quietly.

"No, no! Just with her hands."

Hermione paused. "You have a gift, Draco. You do. You _see_ people." She looked up at him earnestly. Draco studied her face.

"I see you, Granger," Draco said. Hermione's eyes widened.

"And…?"

"You wouldn't have jumped." Draco grabbed his sketchbook and walked away, leaving Hermione with only her books and her thoughts to occupy her.

* * *

Harry and Ron sprinted into the gates of Hogwarts. It was past five o'clock, rendering any secret passages into the school inaccessible due to all the shops in Hogsmeade being closed. The boys were sweating and panting hard as they ran up the front pathway. The reached the main entrance, ripped open the doors, and were almost sure they would be safe. Most unfortunately, Professor Snape greeted them.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasely. Let's see, a point off for every minute you were past curfew, so that's fifteen points apiece," Snape said smoothly. Harry and Ron looked at each other for a second, then both boys bolted in different directions.

"Not so fast, Potter!" Snape yelled, waving his wand as he did so, enclosing the boys in the entrance hall, which was about the size of a classroom. Harry jiggled the doorhandle to the Great Hall fruitlessly, then slammed his head against the door in frustration.

"Damnit all."

"I heard that, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said, gliding over to Harry. "Get over here, Weasely." Ron dragged himself over to his friend. Snape bore down on them, and seemed grow ten feet taller. Harry sighed as he watched a potrait of piglets frolicking in a haystack. He slouched and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Do explain why you felt above the need to regard our school curfew, Mr. Potter," Snape said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward gleefully.

"Frankly, I'd rather not," Harry said, looking right into Snape's eyes.

"Well that's ten more points for your impudence. Mr. Weasley, would you care to enlighten me?" Snape snarled sarcastically.

"Um..yea…You see, Harry here was, erm, shopping, and—" Ron was cut off by Harry.

"I was shopping for a, uh, present for Ron, and because I didn't want him to see what I bought because that's, well, _rude, _we couldn't find each other and that's why it took so long to get back," Harry said, knowing full well that Snape wasn't buying it. He didn't show his skepticism, however. Snape mirthlessly chuckled.

"Really. Show me." Snape smiled. He had them where he wanted them.

"Alright." Harry rummaged through his pockets, stomping on Ron's foot when Ron started to say something. Harry pulled out an oblong, lacquer box with delicate flowers painted on it.

"This is it," Harry said.

"Open it," Snape said, barely audible. Harry unfastened the gold latch to reveal a splendid piece; the necklace was immortally gorgeous. A silver chain ended in a sapphire, heart-shaped pendant, surrounded by tiny princess cut diamonds. It caught the light of a thousand fires. It danced before their eyes, seemingly alive, as if it would take flight. It was a celebration of the earth itself. All three of them were momentarily mesmorized by its hypnotizing sparkle.

"And this is something you would buy for Mr. Weasley? I don't believe you, Potter. Please stop lying to me," Snape said dangerously.

"Oh but it is. See, you've gone and ruined the surprise," Harry said, doing his best to look put out.

"I, uh, think it's lovely nonetheless," Ron said, grinning, trying to play along. Snape's lip curled in disgust as he watched the scene unfold.

"Not as lovely as you, mate," Harry said, looping his arm through Ron's. "But let's save the, ah, official giving until a more _private _moment," Harry said seductively, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course, er, my love," Ron said. Harry leaned into Ron, kissing him on the cheek. Ron turned bright red from the colossal effort it took not to laugh. Harry turned to Snape, who was now frozen.

"Professor Snape, would it be alright if we served detention _together_? It would make it so much easier and productive. I know that you like to have your Bubotubers sorted _exactly _by size, and Ron knows just how to judge that," Harry said, certain that Fred and George couldn't have done it better.

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!! NOW!!!" Snape yelled, raising his wand. Harry and Ron bolted back out onto the grounds, intending to run for Hagrid's. They made it as far as the front steps before collapsing into fits of laughter.

* * *

Hermione was irked. Not only was she irritated that Malfoy left, she was angry at herself for actually caring. Glancing at her watch, Hermione realized she had planned to meet Ginny behind the quidditch pitch for a smoke five minutes ago. Hermione grabbed her bag and rushed out of the library. Yes, she thought, a smoke is just what I need.

When she got to the pitch, Hermione looked around and noticed a telltale curl of smoke coming from the usual booth Ginny smoked behind. Hermione jogged over, reached her hand in her pocket, and realized that she was all out of cigarettes.

"Damn," She muttered. "Hey, Ginny," Hermione waved as she saw her friend.

"Hey," Ginny said, looking into the sky as she blew out a puff of smoke. Ginny had one arm crossed, the other resting on top of it as it held her cigarette. Hermione instantly knew something was awry as she looked at Ginny's angry, black-rimmed green eyes.

"What's wrong?" Hermione was glad to have someone else's problems to focus on.

"My mum. Again." Ginny shook her head, the bondage chains on her arms clinking gently.

"What'd she say this time?" Hermione was well aware of the letters Ginny's mom sent her every other week or so. They usually said the same thing; stop acting out, don't present such an awful image of our family, stop being disrespectful and landing yourself in detention.

"You remember when I got totally trolleyed on Halloween?" Ginny asked. Hermione nodded, remembering how drunk Ginny had been and how she had to go to Madame Pomfrey with a rather large headache the next day, causing her to arrive late and consequently fail another potions test. "Well Mum found out somehow, I think Ron told her to get back at me for my blackmailing him," Ginny continued.

"That's rubbish. What are you going to do about it?" Hermione suspected that Ron would do something like that. It only added to her annoyance at him.

"Dunno. She wrote something about how she's going to "put me on a tight leash" or something over the summer, which would really suck," Ginny shook her head again as she blew out more smoke.

"Can I bum a smoke?" Hermione asked.

"Come off it, that's the second time this week!" Ginny rolled her eyes, but gave her friend one anyway.

"I'll probably be visiting you over the summer anyways, and your mum thinks I'm alright, so maybe you won't have such a hard time. And if you do, there's always studying you could catch up on. You did fail that last potions test, you know," Hermione said with mock severity.

"And every one before it," Ginny giggled. She looked at the sky again, noticed the setting sun, and glanced her watch and sighed. "Sorry, babe, but I gotta go. I've got another detention with Snape that starts in five." Ginny threw her cigarette butt on the ground and delicately ground it into the sand with her toe.

"Bye," Hermione said as her friend hurried off. Hermione took a deep drag from her cigarette as she reveled in her solitude. Just as she was about to exhale, however, Draco Malfoy rounded the corner of the booth. His eyes flew open in surprise as Hermione started to choke, short puffs of smoke coming out of her mouth. In the process, she lost her half-finished cigarette.

"Granger? A smoker? Gods, that's foul," Malfoy sneered.

"Almost as foul as you," Hermione said, but realized too late that she had said it with mock sarcasm.

"You're forgetting that, foul as I may be, I have a right to wander around this pitch same as you," Malfoy said, turning his head up in such a way that the light caught his face, illuminating it like a renaissance painting. Hermione was temporarily at a loss for words as she scanned at his features; his beautiful jaw line, his perfect eyes, his aristocratic nose, all rimmed with the gold of the setting sun. She mentally kicked herself when she realized that she was, again, checking out Draco Malfoy.

"Just like you wander around everywhere," Hermione muttered to herself.

"That's better than smoking, now isn't it?" Malfoy teased, a grin teasing the corners of his oh-so-delicious lips.

"Don't presume to tell me that Draco Malfoy has never tried a cigarette," Hermione said, certain that her impression of Malfoy was correct.

"Actually, I haven't. It's the most disgusting thing in the world. Ever kissed a smoker?" Malfoy asked. "It's like licking an ashtray. I suggest you stop," Malfoy stated, with his trademark matter-of-factness that made Hermione want to hit him.

"Since when have you been so concerned about my well-being?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. She would NOT open up to him; she just couldn't let him penetrate her defenses. After all, it would only lead to heartbreak.

"Since I saw you try to kill yourself. Don't presume to tell _me _that your life is some sort of open book, either, Granger," Malfoy said. "I know you're hiding things."

"Well, so are you!" Hermione said, immediately realizing how juvenile she sounded.

"Only because you never asked," Malfoy stated simply.

"Well, I…" Hermione was momentarily taken aback. She was unused to people challenging her like this, and it simultaneously irritated and intrigued her. She decided to focus the attention on Draco instead of herself. Hermione mentally kicked herself again as she realized that she was thinking of Malfoy in terms of Draco.

"I know you spent time in Paris. So then what, Mr. Wandering Draco?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I decided to go there and see what the real artists were doing instead of hanging around London all day," Draco said. Hermione was impressed against her will.

"Where were you before London?" Hermione's curiosity was piqued.

"Ireland. They have some great local pubs there. It's where I learned to play wizards darts for money," Draco said, his eyes getting a faraway look as he reminisced.

"Like gambling?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Uh, yea," Draco said. "Only with wizard's darts, the picture you magic onto the board moves and talks, and the darts stick to everything—no matter what or who they hit," Draco grinned. "That's how I got this," he said, turning his head and pointing to a circular scar on his shoulder near his neck. Hermione was too busy marveling at the sinewy muscles beneath the scar to care what the scar looked like, though.

"Scandalous! Can you show me?" Hermione wanted to learn just so she could throw a dart at Ron the next time he got trashed. Draco raised an eyebrow, almost as if he could sense her intentions.

"Sure. If you like," he said quietly.

"I think I would," Hermione smiled.

"Well, we need a dart board first," Draco said. He magicked a dartboard onto the quidditch booth beside them, a blank circle about 20 centimeters in diameter. "What picture do you want on it?"

"Oh, I don't care," Hermione tried to sound nonchalant, but she was secretly excited.

"Alright then. Let's do…Colin Creepy," Draco said, knowing that she would not permit him to plaster Potty or the Weasel's face on it. Hermione giggled.

"Now, first things first. Aim with your eye, and follow the line you create. Like this," Draco said, magicking a little pile of darts onto the ground. He licked his lips and squinted as he aimed and threw. Several things then occurred simultaneously. As the dart hit the board with a resounding PHUT, the Creevey kid began to howl as blood trickled out of the dart point that was embedded between his eyes. Just as the Creevey kid began to howl, Hermione and Draco heard someone call out.

"Hermione? Is that you? Where are you?" Hermione recognized Lavender's voice as she quickly covered the darts on the ground with sand. Draco aimed a silencio charm at the board and sidestepped in front of it just as Lavender rounded the corner of their booth.

"Play along, Malfoy," Hermione muttered as she fell to the ground, clutching her head. "Ahh, it hurts! Lavender? I can't see very well," Hermione feigned in a weak voice.

"Gods, Hermione! What happened to you??" Lavender's mouth was open in horror as she knelt to help her friend. Suddenly she whipped her head up, and drew her wand. "You foul, evil…How could you even…?" Lavender glared at Malfoy with a look of pure hatred as she drew conclusions.

"I hit her with a stunning spell that was aimed at Hagrid's mutt," Malfoy said smoothly, smirking like his usual self. "I didn't mean to hit the witch-mutt instead, but hey, they're all mutts to me," Malfoy faked an evil grin, which Lavender didn't catch.

"Ohhh, my head," Hermione said, bringing Lavender's attention back to her.

"Shh, let's get you to Madame Pomfrey. She'll know what to do. C'mon now, easy," Lavender soothed her friend as she pulled her up. Hermione weakly let her weight pull Lavender down.

"You owe her an apology if you don't want to be expelled, you bastard," Lavender said to Malfoy.

"Fine. I'm," Draco paused dramatically, "dreadfully sorry. Here," Draco extended his hand. As Hermione took it, she felt something crush against her fist. Draco looked into her eyes as he pressed it into her hand. Hermione saw fire in his eyes, but just as quickly, they returned to their usual grey hue. She shoved the note in her pocket while she was getting up.

"Oh, and Brown? I'd be careful about what I said if I were you. You may find yourself in over your head at the Gryff versus Slytherin game tonight if you can't control yourself," Draco said in a dangerously low voice.

Lavender said nothing as she dragged Hermione away, trying to look indifferent. Hermione, however, noticed the slightest tremor in her hand that wasn't there before.

* * *


End file.
